


Friendship Instincts

by K_Hanna_Korossy



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5855416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Hanna_Korossy/pseuds/K_Hanna_Korossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something's happened to Jack, and it'll take someone who knows him well to figure out what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friendship Instincts

First published in _Foundations 4_ (2004)

 

Middle-of-the-night calls were never good. It was never your long-lost brother, or Ed McMahon saying you’d won twenty million dollars—or did he only make house calls? It wasn’t like Jack O’Neill, Colonel, USAF, wasn’t used to being roused in the middle of the night, especially since coming out of retirement to join the SGC; seemed like half their emergencies were between one and five a.m. Of course, it was usually mid-day on whatever planet the problem came from. But that still didn’t help him get his beauty sleep.

However, you didn’t ignore a call from help from an old buddy. Even if it was an old buddy you hadn’t seen or heard from in years. Once you relied on a person to keep you alive and held his life in your hands in return, you were bonded forever. So what was a little three-hours-before-dawn wake-up call? Jack hadn’t argued, had just pulled on some clothes, tucked away his back-up sidearm in a pocket, and gone.

And was now on some remote side road lined on both sides with dense woods, trying to see without headlights, looking for a guy he hadn’t seen in years in a location he wasn’t quite sure of. Tony had said a mile down the road, and it was about that, but that was still awfully—

There. Beside the road, a dark Chevy sat also without lights on, a man in dark clothing standing beside it. He waved as Jack’s truck came into view, and O’Neill pulled off to park facing the Chevy. Dark clothes, no lights—his spider senses were definitely tingling. Jack was wary as he climbed out of the truck, even as he flashed a grin at his old friend.

“Nice place.”

“It comes in handy.” Tony Mascarotti smiled back, more subdued than Jack could remember seeing him before, even on a tough mission. “Hiya, Jack. How’s business?”

“Can’t complain.” They shook hands, Jack’s eyes assessing as his grin faded. His friend had aged a lot more than the years since they’d last met. Tony’s mother had always kept him well-fed, but he looked gaunt now, his face thin, his eyes shadowed. The bad news kept getting worse. “How ‘bout yourself?” he asked casually.

“Thanks for coming.” Clever side-step. “I’ve run out of people to call, Jack—I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

“Always glad to know I’m at the bottom of the list,” Jack said wryly. He tucked his hands into his pockets as the wind momentarily picked up, rustling through the trees around them.

“More like at the top of the chain. I tried my C.O., but he thinks it’s all in my head. I’ve been moving up the line since, but I can’t get anyone to listen.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Listen to what?”

Tony did a quick visual sweep, then moved a step closer to Jack. “I think Kurt is—”

The crack of rifle fire sent Jack instantly to the ground, instincts kicking in before thought could. Someone was shooting at them, and with the echo of the trees, Jack had no idea from where. Gun already in hand, he hissed over his shoulder, “Tony?”

No answer. Jack turned slowly, hugging the dirt, to where his friend had been standing. Tony was also on the ground, but on his back, legs and arms splayed as if…

Jack flinched, reaching out a hand toward his old teammate’s nearest wrist, not too surprised to feel no pulse beating under his fingertips. His hand balled into a fist. _Aw, Tony…_ The man had deserved far better than this.

There had been no other sound since the one shot, but that didn’t mean much. Jack began to move carefully, inching closer to the truck and its cover. If the shooter wanted him, too, and had a scope, or better yet, night vision equipment, O’Neill was a sitting duck. And Tony hadn’t given him a lot to go on—Kurt? Kurt Chernay? If it was Chernay, Jack’s chances of getting out of there alive were falling by the second. _Terrific._

Well, Jack set his jaw, he’d be damned if he’d just accept that. He was almost at the truck, only a small open area separating him from his vehicle. If he could get across that, then get into the truck and keep low, maybe he could make it out of there. The Chevy would have provided more cover, but he had no idea where the keys were or if it was even unlocked. Jack cursed himself for not bringing his cell phone, but those things were traceable, and he hadn’t even thought twice about leaving it behind when heading for a private meet.

Still no sound except for the wind in the trees. They should have met somewhere open, not like there was a lot of flatland in Colorado. But there were too many places for someone to hide here, someone who presumably would want dead not only Tony, but anyone he might have shared his secret with. Grimacing, Jack gave a mental count of three, then lunged for the truck.

The rifle shot was almost lost in the smack of his body against the cold side of the truck. So was the hard punch in his side that could have come from the impact, but Jack knew better. Already it was starting to feel warm and wet, and the pain would come soon enough. Sweet. Whoever was shooting at them, Chernay most likely, was one heck of a good shot. Which meant taking the truck was out. Jack would be full of holes before he’d even turned the key in the ignition. Staying there was also a bad idea; he’d just be a sitting, wounded duck.

That left exactly one option Jack could see. Even as he blinked sweat out of his eyes, he was already gauging the distance to the treeline. It was at least six feet, more before he would be completely out of sight, twice as far as the space he’d just crossed. But from the angle of the last shot, Jack figured the truck was now between him and the shooter, and that would provide some protection.

Besides, he didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. Jack took a breath. Sometimes it was easy to forget when dealing on a day-to-day basis with threats to the Earth how dangerous one rogue human, one man with a gun, could be. Jack hadn’t quite forgotten, but this was unquestionably a rude reminder.

He gripped his gun, not much help now, but it made him feel better. “For God and country,” he muttered, coiling for the leap. And then he was flying, injury forgotten, gun pointed back roughly in the direction of the shooter as he emptied the clip and, simultaneously, reached the edge of the woods. Jack threw himself into the forest and immediately behind the bulk of a thick tree.

No rifle chatter followed him, nothing but the whisper of branches. A real pro—he didn’t even try when he didn’t have a shot, unlike the movies where the bad guys seem to shoot up all the scenery without touching the hero. Too bad this wasn’t a movie; Jack could have used a cavalry coming over the hill right about then.

At least he was in his element now. Open-ground target practice got old fast, but give him a nice thick forest and he could disappear, go to ground and not be found, eventually try to go for help. A side injury, through-and-through, wasn’t necessarily fatal just messy, even if it was starting to burn. He could do this.

Jack gave the dark woods a feral grin. _Just you and me, now. Come an’ get me_.

And holding his gun with one hand, his side with the other, Jack O’Neill crept deeper into the trees.

 

It just didn’t pay to be good. For once, Daniel Jackson had made an effort to get to the briefing early, and now, of course, everyone else was late. Figured. Then again, he sat straighter at the thought, maybe there was a plus: he could always give Jack grief about it. Daniel brightened considerably at the thought.

The door opened and he looked up with anticipation, but only Sam and Teal’c filed in. Jack would be the last to show—this was just getting too good. Daniel smiled at his teammates as they took their places at the table, then sat and waited.

General Hammond entered next, giving them a sweeping glance and frowning as he also discovered Jack’s absence. One of those strange quirks of the military, always expecting people to be on time. Daniel contrived to look completely innocent.

“Captain Carter, Dr. Jackson, Teal’c,” Hammond nodded at them in greeting. “Where’s Colonel O’Neill?”

“Uh, I guess he’s running a little late, sir. I think he went home for the evening.” Sam didn’t look nearly as self-satisfied, but then, as Daniel sometimes had to remind himself, she was military, too.

Hammond’s frown deepened to displeasure, and he picked up a nearby phone and spoke to someone Daniel figured to be his aide. “Check to see if Colonel O’Neill’s been through the front gate today, and if not, call him at his home.” He hung up none-too-gently.

Silence. Sam fidgeted, looking uncomfortable for her C.O., while Teal’c sat impassive, and Hammond looked stern. Daniel shuffled papers, finally clearing his throat and addressing Sam. “So…it looks like you think P31-693 is promising.”

She seemed to be relieved to have something to talk about. “Well, there aren’t any signs of current or past human habitation—sorry, Daniel—but the natural resources we’re picking up are very encouraging. No naquada, but some other elements we can’t quite identify, two with radioactive properties. I’m looking forward to getting a look at them.”

The phone rang again, and Daniel ignored the general’s subsequent quiet conversation. “Any other signs of life?”

“Lots of plant life, as you’d expect, some insect and small animal. Nothing more advanced than our—”

“People,” Hammond interrupted as he put down the phone. “This briefing has now been rescheduled to 1600. Colonel O’Neill does not seem to be on base and is not answering his phone at home. I suggest you find him before this afternoon.” The threat in his voice wasn’t for them, but rather for Jack if he didn’t get back there on time. They were being offered a chance to help him not get into too much hot water.

Which Daniel appreciated, but he still frowned at the situation. Running a little late was one thing, being nowhere to be found was another and very unlike Jack. The man could be lackadaisical in ways that got under even Daniel’s skin, but he didn’t disobey orders without a good reason. What would be a good reason for not being there that morning, Daniel couldn’t even guess at, but it worried him. There wasn’t any non-emergency he could think of that Jack couldn’t have called in about. Chances were still that there was some simple explanation, but knowing Jack…well, who knew?

“Yes, sir,” Sam had already answered for them, and she stood as Hammond left the room, as did Teal’c. Daniel wasn’t required to, being a civilian, but he pushed himself to his feet nevertheless out of politeness.

Hammond was barely gone when Teal’c spoke. “It is not like O’Neill to forget a briefing.”

“I agree, Teal’c, but if he’s not on base, he could be anywhere,” Sam answered.

“It would make sense to check his house, though. Maybe he slept through the phone,” Daniel offered.

He got two skeptical looks in response and made a face.

“Okay, I don’t believe that, either, but I don’t have a better idea, do you? Maybe that’ll give us some possibilities for where he went.”

Sam shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

“Meet at the front gate in ten minutes?” Two nods answered him, and then they were all leaving to change and go play search party.

Daniel just hoped it wasn’t search-and-rescue.

 

“Looks normal to me,” Sam commented as they pulled up to the curb and sat looking at the small suburban home.

“The truck isn’t here,” Daniel pointed out.

“I don’t think he’s home. And we can’t get in if he isn’t, so—”

Daniel sheepishly dug in his pocket and fished something out. “I have a key.” Another pair of stares greeted that, and he shrugged self-consciously. “I stayed with Jack until I found the apartment after I got back from Abydos. I guess I never got around to giving him his key back.” He didn’t see a reason to add Jack had gruffly told him to keep it, since he still came by fairly often to visit. After living with Sha’re for a year, sometimes it was just too quiet and lonely in his apartment for him to stay there by himself.

“Shall we not go in then?” Teal’c questioned from the back seat.

“Might as well.” Sam gave him one last look and a hint of a smile that said she’d seen through Daniel’s story but thankfully didn’t push it. She climbed out of the car, Daniel and Teal’c following. At the house, Daniel took the lead, opening the door for them.

“Yesterday’s mail’s been picked up, but the morning paper’s still here,” Sam noted, and Daniel nodded with faint surprise. He’d been thinking about Jack, not about clues as to Jack’s whereabouts, but it was time to adjust his thinking and be an anthropologist and observe.

Like the fact that Jack’s cell phone sat in plain sight on an end table near the door. Daniel nodded at it, Sam acknowledging it with a glance. No doubt the general’s aide had tried it, too, without result. More importantly, it meant they couldn’t track the phone down to find Jack. One less option.

The three of them spread out to cover the house.

Walking into the kitchen, Daniel heard the squeal of an answering machine rewinding and then a tinny female voice from the living room behind him. “Nothing on the machine except for the SGC,” Sam called out to them.

He’d figured as much. Glancing around the neat room, Daniel called back, “Coffee maker’s full.”

“So he got here but didn’t spend the night?” Sam joined him in the kitchen.

“O’Neill’s bed has been slept in but has been left unmade as though he left it in great hurry.” That was Teal’c, standing in the doorway.

Sam’s face contorted in puzzlement. “Then he started to spend the night but then left before morning? Somebody called him, maybe?”

“Were Jack’s wallet and keys on the dresser?” Daniel asked Teal’c.

“They were not.”

“Okay, so it sounds like he left of his own free will.” An idea occurred. “Just a minute,” Daniel said, and strode out of the kitchen, back toward the bedroom.

It was just as Teal’c had described it, the bed rumpled, drawers left open, messy unlike Jack’s usual military neatness, as if its inhabitant had been urgently called away. Daniel ignored that, going straight to the nightstand. He pulled the drawer open, wincing at what he saw. Or rather, didn’t see.

“What is it, Daniel?” Sam and Teal’c had followed him back.

“Jack’s back-up gun is missing. Wherever he went, he was expecting trouble.”

They digested that. “I think it’s time we called in some help on this,” Sam finally said.

Daniel peered up at her. “MP’s?”

“Actually, I was thinking along the lines of the local police. They’re better equipped to find the colonel’s truck. I’ll call General Hammond.” She turned toward the living room phone, ignoring the one by the bed. Too personal?, Daniel wondered in passing. Were they starting to assume the worst already?

“You could also have him check if anyone called Jack last night,” he called after her, hearing her “Good idea” filter back.

“It seems O’Neill is in trouble then,” Teal’c said tonelessly, but it took only a glance for Daniel to see the concern shining in his eyes.

“Well, maybe.” He straightened up again, wincing as knees popped. “We don’t really know much yet, but you usually don’t get called out in the middle of the night for good news. But maybe he just got tied up with something.”

“Would not being restrained mean he is in trouble?” Teal’c asked.

Daniel almost smiled. “Not literally tied up. At least, I hope not. But you know Jack.”

He wasn’t sure what Teal’c would make of that line, but as he passed the Jaffa to go back out into the living room, he heard him mutter, “Indeed.” They all knew Jack too well.

Which was why Daniel’s gut was already tightening into a hard knot.

 

There was, Daniel soon discovered, no pressing work that required his attention that morning, unfortunately. Or rather, there wasn’t any work that could hold his attention. Archaeological findings from various missions, SG-1’s and other teams’, sat waiting for him to get around to them and unlock their treasures, and Daniel couldn’t seem to string two Sumerian sentences together. He finally threw his pencil down in disgust and went to see what Sam was doing.

Much the same as him, except in her lab, surrounded by her beloved equipment. None of which lay on the desk where she sat, staring into space.

“I see you’re getting as much done as I am,” Daniel noted wryly as he wandered in.

She started, then flushed and grinned with her usual good nature. “I guess my mind’s not really on it today. There hasn’t been any news--?” Hammond had promised to call them if anything turned up on either Jack or the truck. The only bit of new information they’d had since that morning was there had been an incoming call for O’Neill at about three a.m., but it was from a cell phone and the caller was untraceable.

“I haven’t heard anything.” Daniel shook his head, watching as Sam subsided back into her chair. Time for a change of subject. “Where’s Teal’c?”

“Uh, I think he went back to his room to meditate.” Sam sat a moment longer before jumping to her feet and pacing to the far end of the room. “I feel like we should be doing something, like we’re failing the colonel somehow just sitting here, you know?”

He did. Daniel was gentle as he answered. “We wouldn’t even know where to start looking. It’s not like we’re off-world, Sam—Earth plays by its own rules. The people who are out looking for him are trained in this.”

“I know, it’s just…” She didn’t finish, didn’t have to. The fact was she was just expressing what Daniel felt. Which was unusual—he was the one who typically ranted and paced while Sam calmly told him everything possible was being done. Maybe it was because he was more used to trusting the civilian world to do its job, and she the military? But it was true, this wasn’t some mission that had gone wrong; it was a disappearance like the ones police dealt with every day. The right people were out there searching. Daniel just wished he could be one of them, as, clearly, did Sam.

“Has there been new information?” Teal’c’s deep voice came from the doorway, and they both looked up to see the Jaffa standing there, watching them, expression ever-so-slightly constricted with worry.

“Not yet, Teal’c,” Daniel answered, plopping down into Sam’s vacated chair. “We were just complaining about that.”

“May I join you? I find myself unable to achieve Kel’noreem today.”

Which said a great deal about just how concerned he was. Well, why not—it was the same reason Daniel had sought out Sam. Being with those in the same situation always seemed to give comfort. Daniel gave him a sympathetic glance as Sam said warmly, “Of course, Teal’c. Have a seat.”

He did, in the only other chair in the room. Sam didn’t seem to need it as she kept pacing. Daniel chewed on his thumb and tried to run mentally through the projects he had piled up in his office waiting for him. He didn’t get very far before losing the train of thought each time and needing to start over again, but at least it kept his mind busy.

“I’m glad you’re all together. I just heard from the local police,” Hammond’s voice startled him. Daniel’s head shot up to see the general standing where Teal’c had been minutes before. The older man looked grim, and the fact he’d come in person sent waves of acid worry through the archaeologist’s stomach.

“They found something?” Sam asked, coming over to stand next to Daniel. Comfort in numbers, he thought numbly.

Hammond nodded. “They’ve found the colonel’s truck out on a forest road about ten miles from his house. There was no sign of Colonel O’Neill, but there _was_ another car there, belonging to Lieutenant Colonel Antonio Mascarotti, a former team member of Colonel O’Neill’s.” He hesitated. “Unfortunately, Mascarotti’s body was next to the car, shot once, apparently from long-range. He’s been dead for several hours.”

A moment of total silence. Daniel finally blinked. “But there’s no sign of Jack?”

“They’re searching the woods around the vehicles, but the colonel doesn’t seem to be in the area. The police are considering him a suspect in Mascarotti’s murder. The Air Force is considering it an abduction by a third party.”

Just when he thought it couldn’t get more surprising… “The police think _Jack_ killed the guy?” And then left his truck there to implicate him and walked off? Daniel’s belief in civilian police took an abrupt nosedive.

“He’s the only other person they can place at the scene,” Sam answered absently, then said to Hammond, “Sir, is there any indication why Lt. Col. Mascarotti might have called Colonel O’Neill out there?”

“So far we have no proof that he did,” Hammond said, with that brand of impatience he showed when he was frustrated, too, if not with them. “Or, really, that Colonel O’Neill was abducted, but there seems to be no other good explanation right now.” He hesitated. “There’s one more thing. They found a little blood on the side of the Colonel’s truck that doesn’t look like it came from Mascarotti. They’re testing it now for compatibility with the colonel.”

Bad to worse. Daniel took a deep breath. “But we don’t really know anything for sure yet.”

“Other than that Colonel O’Neill is missing, no. Although there is one bit of hope.” Hammond’s eyebrow went up. “The colonel’s back-up weapon was not found on scene. It appears wherever he is, he still has it with him.”

Which meant abduction wasn’t likely, unless the abductor had confiscated the gun. Which was a real possibility. But somehow that felt wrong to Daniel. This wasn’t off-world, where unfamiliar weapons could have influenced Jack to go with his captor. Whoever the shooter was could have taken Jack if he were unconscious, although his blood on the side of the truck seemed to indicate he’d been upright. And probably not likely to allow the shooter to get close enough to force him to go, either. And if he’d been killed outright, no doubt he’d have been left there just like his friend—Mascarotti?

“Are they checking into Mascarotti’s background?” Sam asked.

“Already working on it, Captain,” Hammond soothed, then shifted, the discussion clearly ending. “Unless you have any ideas, which I trust you’ll bring to my attention at once, SG-1 is standing down until we can find Colonel O’Neill.” It looked like he wanted to say more, maybe give them some encouragement, but his face seemed to close and the general turned away. Daniel knew how much Jack meant to the base commander, too.

But something still bothered him. “Uh, sir, are they sure Jack isn’t in the area, maybe taking cover in the forest? If someone were shooting at him, it would make sense for him to hide.”

“I’m told they searched the area thoroughly, Dr. Jackson. That option has definitely been considered.” Hammond’s voice had an edge to it now, and he didn’t wait for another question, striding off.

“I’m sure they’re looking for him, Daniel,” Sam said soothingly.

None of which left Daniel wholly reassured. Okay, they’d checked the area, probably looking for someone hiding behind a tree or lying passed out on the forest floor near the road. But Daniel had seen first-hand Jack’s skills and tenacity, not to mention his special ops background. If Jack didn’t want to be found, no civilian search party, nor even necessarily an Air Force one, would find him. It wouldn’t be the first time Jack O’Neill had been underestimated.

And Daniel had a nagging feeling…

He stood, giving his teammates a glance. “I think I might go out there anyway, just to take a look around. Maybe they missed something that somebody who knows Jack would catch.”

“I don’t think they’d let you on the scene,” Sam said slowly.

“Perhaps we should also find out more about this Mascarotti,” Teal’c added.

“That’s a good idea—I think you should do that, I just…I’d feel better seeing this with my own eyes.”

Sam met his eyes, warm empathy in hers. “You want me to come with you?”

“No, I’ll be fine. I just have to do this, you know?”

She nodded. They each would have to follow their instincts on this one. Sam, for all her military training, was a scientist who relied on research, and Teal’c wasn’t comfortable with Earth at large, usually doing better in familiar territory on-base. Maybe Daniel wasn’t a scientist, but he was used to hunting in the wild. Even if his quarry was usually ancient artifacts, not a living person. But Jack was far more important than any archaeological find Daniel had ever sought.

“Keep in touch,” Sam said, and Teal’c nodded in agreement and parting.

Ten minutes later, Daniel was on the road.

 

It was a good thing he’d gotten precise directions from Hammond as to the scene of the shooting for there was little enough left to show it had been there. Daniel nearly drove by it before he saw the deep tracks of some of the emergency equipment.

Apparently, the police had been there some time before they’d talked to Hammond. Neither vehicle was there anymore, nor Mascarotti’s body, though there was a carefully rubbed out area in the dirt Daniel guessed most have been bloody once. Only the tracks, the two vehicles that were evidently towed, and the ruts left by the emergency equipment were still there to tell the tale. And some trash; Daniel picked through the discarded material with distaste. Clearly the authorities hadn’t been park police, with that branch’s insistence on not littering. Bits of police tape, swab wrappers, and other debris was there for anyone to see who looked carefully enough.

Which meant he was in the right place. Daniel straightened from his examination of the ground, studying the area next. Trees rose on every side, blocking his line of vision for more than a half-dozen feet into the dense forest. It was a good place to hide for anyone who didn’t want to be found, and a bad place to be looking for someone. And yet the nagging feeling continued, that Jack hadn’t left the scene either with his captor or of his own volition, that he’d taken refuge somewhere not too far, probably injured, possibly unable to go for help. In which case, not taking the chance of looking could mean Jack’s death.

It was impetus enough to overcome lingering doubts. Checking the compass on his watch to make sure of his course, Daniel dove into the trees on the side of the road the vehicles had been on. It didn’t take Jack’s survival training to know that was the best place to start.

Late afternoon sunlight soon gave way to twilight dimness as the tall trees cut off all but stray, filtered beams. The trees’ height and breadth reminded Daniel of the pictures of California redwoods he’d seen, though these were probably a century or two younger. They were still impressive, and in other circumstances, he would have slowed to admire them. Now, they were only obstacles in his way.

Okay, if Jack had really gone to ground and not come out again, he was probably avoiding the person who’d shot him. That meant he was hiding and unlikely to be found by any searcher…unless he trusted the person looking for him. Personally—police were unfamiliars and unlikely to draw him out.

Daniel checked his compass again as he moved forward, due northwest, and clearing his throat, hollered, “Jack? Are you here? It’s me, Daniel.”

No answer beyond the sounds of the forest, slight stirrings and rustles. Well, he hadn’t really expected to find anything so fast. Daniel kept walking, following a straight course. Jack usually did the same on the wooded planets they went to, declaring more than once a straight line provided the easiest route of return. Of course, if he thought someone was coming after him, he might have made it harder, headed off to one side or zigzagged…but somehow Daniel didn’t think so. After a dozen or so feet of routed dirt and broken greenery, the forest had become pristine in every direction. If Jack had been that way, his skills were excellent, no sign of his passage evident in the forest bed, the unbent branches of bushes, the spongy moss around the trees. He could obviously hide well enough even if the enemy were coming straight after him. Daniel was counting on that now.

“Jack? It’s safe—you can come out now.”

Only the crunch of his footsteps sounded out of place. Daniel zipped up his coat; the deepened shadows had cooled the air significantly. If Jack was there somewhere, injured…

“Come on, Jack. We can build a fire back home, grill some steaks and have a few beers, what do you say?”

On the other hand, hours of injury and cold could easily be too much for even the most fit and trained person. If Jack died in some little hole he’d hidden himself in, would his body ever turn up? Would some hunter find a pile of bones someday, or would nature just bury what was returned to it? The thought made Daniel shiver. He was starting to know how the families felt of those who got themselves lost out in the wilderness. To never know was the worst part imaginable. He felt sometimes like that with Sha’re, not knowing where or how she was…

Okay, he was not going there. One crisis, one loss at a time.

“Jack? Come on, you know me and forests—give me a nice desert any day. Nice and warm and—”

Was that a creak he heard? Daniel paused, motionless, but the sound didn’t repeat itself. Probably some animal. He’d seen a few darting through the corners of his vision. There was no question the searchers hadn’t penetrated remotely that far; Daniel judged he’d gone a good half-mile already, himself, nothing but trunks and greenery any way he looked, the forest a wall of silence. Sound didn’t penetrate far into the thick vegetation, the trees seeming to soak up all vibration, and Daniel was reminded again of the old adage: if a tree fell in the woods and no one heard it…

How about a colonel? Jack to his friends, of which Daniel was one. Okay, yeah, best friend, if Daniel was being honest. They’d become close both by default, and by the fact few people had ever cared half as much for Daniel Jackson, let alone regularly risked their life for, looked after, drank and celebrated and cried with him. It was, Daniel suspected, the reason General Hammond allowed a civilian on his flagship SG team, and how Daniel had made it through more than one scrape, both on Earth and off-world.

Which was why Daniel was there. Jack was in trouble, again, but this time maybe one half-trained archaeologist could actually do something instead of just helplessly watch as he had in the past as Jack aged overnight into an old man, or was tortured by a heartless Goa’uld, or had the painful reminder of his son paraded in front of him by a well-meaning alien trying to communicate.

“You’re better at this than me, though, Jack, you know that, with all that special training.” They never much talked about Jack’s military background, but every so often Daniel got a glimpse of the lethal warrior the man was trained to be. It always both reassured and frightened him. “I even got lost in the SGC that time, remember? I didn’t think you’d ever let me forget it.” Okay, so it was his second day there and he’d still been reeling from Sha’re’s loss and returning to Earth. Daniel had finally found Jack’s office, and after a little gentle ribbing, the older man had taken him on a careful tour of the SGC. By the end, he’d started to feel a little less adrift…more because someone had bothered about his comfort than because he knew his way around.

And then some idiot with a gun came along. Didn’t they get into enough trouble on missions without running into it off-duty, too?

Actually, that loyalty and friendship Jack had shown him was probably what had gotten the colonel into trouble this time, too. Responding without hesitation when an old teammate called, right into danger—it fairly smacked of Jack O’Neill.

Coming up on a mile, by Daniel’s estimation. The sun’s angle promised sunset in about an hour, and even with a compass, he knew better than to stay past nightfall. Even if he could find his way back, between the drop in temperature and the creatures that came out at night, it was a bad idea. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep going as long as possible. He had at least another fifteen minutes before he had to turn back. Sure, lots of time. And that was assuming Jack was even out there, which no one else seemed to think besides Daniel. He probably looked pretty silly, walking along, peering behind bushes and trees, listening for noises and talking to himself.

“Jack, come on, throw me a bone here. Sam and Teal’c are probably already laughing back at the SGC over my being out here. Help me out.”

Okay, that tone sounded a little desperate. No need to scare the man. Daniel took a deep breath, lightened his voice.

“General Hammond’s getting pretty mad back at the base, Jack. You missed the briefing this morning—one I was on time for, by the way. I think he’s ready to send us on some archaeological missions as punishment. For you, that is.”

“Hold it.”

If he hadn’t been listening so hard, he’d have missed it. Daniel stopped dead, head swiveling to both sides to hear the low voice again, figure out where it was coming from. “Jack? Tell me that was you and I’m not hearing things.”

A definite rustle of movement, almost a…dragging sound. Daniel’s eyes shot to the right, trying to find its source.

He did. There was a gun pointed at him from the crook of a particularly large, bifurcated tree trunk. A thatch of grey hair appeared behind it, followed by a gaunt, white face.

“I said, hold it.”

“Jack…am I glad to see you.” An impulsive step toward the man was halted by the gun’s shifting to follow him. Daniel gulped, trying to see into Jack’s eyes and find some recognition. “Jack, it’s me. It’s Daniel. I’ve been looking for you—we all have, Sam and Teal’c and the general.”

Jack frowned. “Daniel?” The no-nonsense tone of before faltered.

“I’m here, Jack. I came to help you.”

The gun wavered, sagged, obvious relief washing over Jack’s face. “Wasn’ sure… _I_ wasn’t hearing things…’cept no one else talks _that_ much.”

That was his cue. Daniel plunged through the vegetation between them, almost tripping as a vine caught his foot, and then he was at the side of a living, breathing, hurting Jack O’Neill. “Jack, what—”

The _what_ was quickly clear. Jack had slumped from his knees to sit on the ground, only the tree holding him up. His jacket bulged in the middle, and as Daniel gingerly peeled it away, he saw O’Neill was bare-chested under it, his shirt tied around his abdomen as a clumsy bandage, a large part of it stiff with dried blood. He was shivering nearly non-stop, his skin too cold as Daniel took his hand. Add to that shock, dehydration, and a heck of a lot of pain—weren’t gut shots supposed to be agonizing?—and it was a wonder he was still alive, let alone conscious.

And yet the dark eyes, though pinched, blinked at him with wonder even as Daniel wrapped O’Neill’s jacket back around him. It was probably best not to mess with the makeshift bandage and risk starting bleeding again.

“Daniel?” Jack asked again as if he couldn’t quite accept what he was seeing. He shuddered, swallowed, tried to blink away whatever cobwebs were in his vision. “What’re you doin’…here? Chernay…”

Daniel’s eyes swept the area. Chernay? Was that the shooter? Jack was still worried about him? But it was half a day later now, the police there and gone in the meantime, and Daniel saw no sign of any danger or anyone else there besides them. The man had probably taken off long before.

Daniel filed the name away for later and focused back on the person in front of him, softening at Jack’s bewildered, pain-washed look. He laid a hand against the too-cold forehead, cheek. “I’m right here, Jack. I came looking for you. There’s no one else here—you’re safe.” That he had to say that at all was an indication of the injured man’s state of mind, which seemed to be only partly lucid. But if Jack had thought the shooter was after him, no wonder he’d stayed hidden. It was amazing they’d connected at all, but they could be grateful for miracles later. Daniel only took the time to squeeze the man’s hand before he fell to work.

“Take it easy. Let me just—” He pulled off his own coat without a second’s thought, carefully worked the injured man’s arms into it. Jack winced, swallowed convulsively, and generally looked like he would have already broken control if this wasn’t, unfortunately, old news to him. Just how used to dealing with pain was he, Daniel wondered fleetingly. If only he’d brought water with him…

“Di’nt expect the cavalry…t’ look like you.” Jack coughed, his voice losing volume no doubt as his adrenaline at Daniel’s arrival faded. But he kept watching Daniel intently, the corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

Daniel had gone through all the vitals, pulled his jacket closer around Jack, and was busy checking limbs and the back of his head for other injuries as he absently scolded, “Well, that’s what you get for pulling a stunt like this. Did it ever occur to you to _call_ before you go out to meet someone in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night?!” Which reminded him…Daniel quickly patted the pockets of his shed jacket, finding and retrieving the cell phone. It blinked “No reception” at him, barely readable in the light that was already beginning to fade. Wonderful.

Jack jerked once, and Daniel panicked anew, reaching up to steady him, before he realized the colonel was _laughing_. At him. “You’re startin’…t’sound like me.”

“There’s no need to get insulting,” Daniel answered tartly, scared to death. No other injuries that he could find but the one gunshot was plenty. Okay, options: leave Jack and go for help. No way. Besides the fact that finding him again wasn’t a given, especially in the dark, the man already looked like he was at his rope’s end, breathing hoarsely, flinching sometimes as he did, his pulse racing under Daniel’s fingers. Second option: take Jack with him. How, fly?

Then again, it was maybe a mile. They’d walked that far with one of them injured before. Between Jack’s determination and Daniel’s help…maybe it was doable. After all, there wasn’t an option three.

Another bad wave hit, this one drawing a clenched moan from Jack, and he began to topple, not even the tree supporting him anymore. Daniel jumped, catching him carefully before he fell over, pulling Jack to him with one arm instead. He was cold, still shivering, his wiry frame tensed against the pain and movement.

“We need to warm you up first—I think you’re in shock,” Daniel noted as he gently rubbed up and down first Jack’s arm, then his back. Friction and body heat, right? Funny how all the first aid he’d learned seemed to disappear when it was needed. He glanced around them again, fruitlessly searching for an answer, then took a second, harder look as he realized what he was seeing. The hollow in the thickest bottom portion of the tree was big enough to fit a man, almost obscured by brush piled haphazardly in front of it. Jack’s hiding place, no doubt. Daniel would never have found him if Jack had been unconscious or… He clung harder for a minute, too aware of how close it had been.

“We need…call Hammond…find Chernay…”

Still trying to be the colonel, even though he was more gasping than talking now. “Shut up, Jack,” Daniel murmured kindly. “Just rest for a minute. I’ll take care of it.”

Jack’s head fell against his chest, heavy, as if he’d been longing for the respite. And he probably had, knowing no doubt that sleep would mean eventual death, either from injuries and cold or his attacker. Warmth and reassurance—it was definitely a good start, and Daniel curved his arm so it cradled Jack’s head, too.

No more wry comments were forthcoming, no order as to how to proceed. Daniel would have doubted O’Neill was even conscious except for his lingering tension and the way he turned his face into Daniel’s shirt each time the pain crested. Jack had taken him at his word and was trusting him to deal with this one.

Things came back into focus again. Daniel was team leader this time. Even if he hadn’t been trained for such an emergency, watching Jack and Sam deal with them had certainly taught him a lot. Stabilize, calm if possible, then get back to the SGC ASAP for professional care.

He could do that. Already the extra warmth of his body had done some good, Jack not shivering so badly nor as tightened up as before. In fact, he seemed like he was starting to drift, and Daniel said sharply, “Don’t go to sleep on me, Jack. I can’t carry you out of here.”

“Still here.” It was down to a whisper, but it was Jack.

Daniel took a deep breath. “Okay. I can’t call for help from here, and I don’t want to leave you, which means we have to go out together, okay?”

He wasn’t sure how much of that Jack actually understood, but the answer came gamely enough. “’Kay.”

“I know it’ll hurt, but…just try for me, and we’ll stop and rest when you need it. All right?”

A faint nod.

Time to go. He hated to rouse Jack when the man seemed like he was finally relaxing a little, but too much more relaxed and Daniel would never get him going again. Still, he moved slowly, gently, getting one of Jack’s arms—the one opposite his injured side—around his neck, followed by pushing up to his knees, then gaining first one, then the other foot, pulling Jack upright with him. It reassured him the injured man was trying to help, even if he didn’t have the strength to stand by himself. His breath kept catching, once nearly a sob, but he didn’t make a single sound of protest. Daniel flinched anyway, imagining too vividly how agonizing the movement had to be, nerves on fire being stretched and jostled. But all he could do was remind himself of the alternative and try to make it as easy as possible for Jack.

Daniel checked his compass to make sure they were heading in the right direction and then turned his attention to putting one foot in front of another. Jack groaned as they started moving but made a stumbling effort, while Daniel held him up and guided him. It was slow progress, but it was progress.

And so began the longest walk of Daniel Jackson’s life.

Jack barely stumbled through the forest brush, feet uncoordinated and sluggish, most of his weight on Daniel, and he’d grown considerably more grey since Daniel had found him. Involuntary tears of pain brightened eyes that were otherwise foggy and lost in torment, even though he still wasn’t making a sound outside of his labored, harsh breathing. At this rate, they’d never make it, and Daniel finally spoke up.

“Jack? Stay with me, Jack. I know it hurts, but you can do it.”

A slurred sound that almost sounded like a snort managed to bring a smile to Daniel’s face. They had to have a chance if Jack still had his sense of humor. Daniel shifted his position slightly, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his already aching shoulder, then kept talking.

“Well, they’re going to be surprised to see us. Hammond thinks you were kidnapped and the police…don’t have a clue,” Daniel finished lamely. The last thing Jack needed just then was to find out he was a suspect in the shooting of his friend…and himself, come to think of it. Daniel spared a grim smile, which widened at his friend’s response to the situation, a muttered curse.

Friend—good gods, what a term. Friends for Daniel had always been the people who shared his passions: colleagues, workmates, mentors and subordinates. They were people you shared a drink with, maybe some stories, and sent Christmas cards to ever year. It wouldn’t have even occurred to him two years before that a friend was someone with whom you had nothing in common but with whom you suffered, for whom you risked your life gladly because you couldn’t imagine living without them, whose blood you routinely washed off your hands and for whom you’d walk alone into dark, unfamiliar woods on the slim chance of finding and bringing him home again. It wasn’t exactly the traditional definition of friendship. But there he was, trying to keep an injured man moving in the midst of a Colorado forest without a second thought, without even a vague notion of how bizarre he’d have thought that a few years before.

Jack half-tripped over a tree root, groaning deeply. Daniel’s train of thought vanished, his grip tightening to compensate.

“I’ve got you,” he soothed. “We’re making good progress—we’ll be at the car soon.” A white lie, but Jack probably had a vague conception of time at that point, anyway. “Just hang in there until we get you to Janet.”

Another breathed curse, this one turning into a rambling mutter.

Daniel frowned, not liking the disjointed, unintelligible sound. Delirium? “Jack?”

The mumbling stopped with a weak cough, Jack slumping harder against him, barely on his feet. Daniel gritted his teeth and went on, the shadows growing deeper around them, and in his heart.

“We’ll be okay. We can do this.” He repeated it under his breath a few times for good measure. But persistent doubts were creeping in—what if they couldn’t make it? He could do a fireman’s carry if necessary, but it would be pressing precisely against Jack’s wound and the man would probably bleed to death by the time they got out. Already his side felt a little too warm below Daniel’s hand, the bleeding having started again. He could build some sort of travois if they had the time, but they didn’t, not before nightfall, not with the shape Jack was in. Daniel couldn’t carry a deadweight body at his side or in his arms the whole way either, though, no matter how determined he was. And Jack was down now to a bare shuffle.

Time for a break, whether he liked it or not. “We’ll stop for a minute, Jack,” he said softly, and drew to a halt beside a particularly mossy tree. O’Neill needed no coaxing to sink to the ground beside him. He was shivering again, conscious only out of determination and because he was hurting badly, and Daniel hurried to maneuver himself so he was sitting behind the man, Jack tucked against him for re-warming and maybe to ease a little of his discomfort.

It was starting to get cold. Daniel was getting chilled through, himself, from the night air and lack of a coat, and if the rest and warmth felt good to him, he could just imagine how much Jack had been needing it. The grateful sigh he got just made Daniel droop more with regret and exhaustion. If felt like they’d been walking half his life, slow torture for Jack that he bore knowing only that Daniel wanted him to do so, thus doing it willingly.

It was another aspect of friendship Daniel hadn’t known about before. That kind of trust, of self-sacrifice, had to be deep to be so instinctive. And it never ceased to amaze him.

“We’re gonna be okay,” he said a little more certainly. “You’re gonna be fine.”

Jack didn’t stir, melted against him from exhaustion and the search for warmth. Daniel sighed and held him secure, massaging the back of his neck while trying not to think about how far they still had to go. Perhaps they were halfway now? It was hard to tell, their progress was so slow. It had to be nightfall outside the forest, inside it nearly dark. Already night sounds had sprung up around them, getting closer as their lack of movement made creatures bold. The luminescent compass on his watch told him they were still going the right direction, but the darkness made footing less sure, the going a little more dangerous.

With a start, Daniel realized Jack probably still had his gun, offering them a little protection if they needed it. Although he’d lost track of it after Jack had held it on him. Some soldier he was.

He didn’t move, pitching his voice low as he asked, “Where’s your gun, Jack?”

Jack started, tensing for a moment defensively, then painfully as his body reacted, before he made a weak motion toward his good side. Daniel checked the shaky hand a little too easily, looking instead himself and finding the weapon shoved into O’Neill’s jacket pocket. Strange he hadn’t felt it between them, although that was through two layers of jacket. He checked to make sure the safety was on and then put it in the outer pocket, the one in his jacket, where he could reach it quickly if needed. The phone was in there, too, and after checking it without much hope—“No reception,” as he’d figured—he relocated it to the farther pocket.

They had to start moving again. As much as he hated to, Daniel nudged the body beside him a little. “Come back to me, Jack. I need your help here—I can’t do this by myself.”

The grey head lifted a little. He’d said the magic words: _need your help_.

“That’s it. I know it’s hard, but I need you to walk for me, Jack, just a little while. Can you do that for me?”

“Dan’l?”

The quite mumble surprised him. “Yeah?”

“Yer here?” Dark, lusterless eyes squinted at him.

“I’m right here, Jack. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Know that…thing hurts…Ch’rnay…need to dial…”

Okay, so Jack was only mostly there. The weak conversation still gave Daniel some measure of reassurance. “We’ll be back at the base soon. Just need to keep going a little longer.”

Jack gave a deep, spent sigh. “Gonna get you…fer this, Dan’l.”

He was smiling before he knew it. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Up on their feet, even more torturous than before. It was of small comfort that Jack was so wrung out he barely seemed to feel anymore, one hand wound in Daniel’s shirt the only sign of how hard it was on him. He soon fell into a rhythm, his head dropping onto Daniel’s shoulder but his feet moving on automatic. Past agony now, conscious only of the fact his friend wanted to keep him moving.

One foot after another. The world narrowed down to the two of them and that damned forest. Left foot, right, steadying as Jack stumbled yet again. Daniel’s mind wandered, too. Surely he hadn’t come this far on his way in?

“Talk.”

The unexpected, breathless command surprised Daniel, but it wasn’t a bad idea. He could use the distraction, too. But the last thing they needed then was one of his “cure for insomnia” lectures, as Jack had once dubbed them, and Daniel curbed the automatic discourse that came to mind.

“Uh, okay. Uh…you’re not gonna believe this, but I got to the briefing early this morning. It figured you would pick today not to show up, but that doesn’t negate the effort. Hammond was pretty mad you weren’t there, but I guess you had a good excuse. Somehow I don’t think this is going to make him happier, though.” Daniel paused for a moment to catch his breath, more than a little winded himself. “He knows about Mascarotti—the police found your truck. The general put out an APB on it, but I’m guessing someone saw the body and called it in a long time before that, before we heard about it.” He’d have to get Hammond to look into that. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, Jack, but we didn’t know.”

The bowed head shook slightly. Absolution for the delay? Daniel’s mouth flattened.

“When you get back on your feet, after Hammond lectures you for doing something so stupid, it’s gonna be my turn. You say _I_ act without thinking? You realize how close we came to being too late?”

Was it him or was it lighter ahead? Daniel didn’t dare hope, just determinedly talked on, unexpected frustration pouring out.

“It’s not something we’ve exactly talked about, but you’re my best friend, Jack. That means you can’t go off and get yourself killed without my getting a little upset about it, got that? I’m counting on your help in finding Sha’re. For that matter, I’m counting on your help looking after my _grandchildren_. So next time you get the urge to go off and play the Lone Ranger, don’t forget even he had Tonto, okay?”

Was that a laugh? It sounded painful and was followed by an even worse trickle of coughs, but that didn’t hide the twist of Jack’s lips. Daniel’s anger disappeared, leaving only worry behind. And, well, yeah, love, too. He didn’t have to say _that_.

Then again, maybe he just had.

Light glinted off something ahead, and it was with a start Daniel realized it was moonlight on metal. The metal of his car.

There was a real God, and Daniel’s eyes sank shut with a brief, fervent prayer to Him.

“We’re here, Jack. We made it. You can rest now—we’ll be home in a few minutes.”

But the last few steps he’d been more dragging than supporting, and Jack didn’t seem to be hearing him any longer. Daniel chewed his lip and kept going.

They broke through the treeline a half-minute later, but all he could think about anymore was Jack’s limp body and how long it had taken them to get there. Daniel unlocked the car with trembling fingers and manhandled Jack into the back seat, lying flat, covered in a blanket and legs propped up. Deeply unconscious but still alive, and Daniel stopped short for a brief moment beside the driver’s side door as realization made his knees weak.

They’d made it. Against stacked odds, too. Jack wasn’t doing great, but he’d survived the hard part, and Daniel wasn’t about to lose him now.

As he drove, he watched closely in the rear view mirror, torn between relief and fear, the short-cropped head that lolled with every acceleration and slowing of the car, the hand that hung limply off the seat, the chest that still rose and fell with labored breath.

And kept praying all the way to the SGC.

 

“Daniel?”

He turned from his contemplation of the whiteness of infirmary sheets to give Sam Carter a smile.

“How’s he doing this morning?” She nodded at Jack O’Neill, who lay on the bed nearby doing a convincing imitation of a corpse, except for the slight motions of breathing and the proof of life the machines around him gave.

“Better. He woke up a few times during the night—you know, never really awake, but I think he knew where he was.”            

“And who was with him.” Her smile deepened, became a little softer.

He’d gotten a lot of teasing since arriving unexpectedly at the doorstep of the SGC with the missing Jack in his back seat; the fickle cell phone hadn’t deigned to work until they were nearly at the mountain. Both the Marines and the Air Force seemed ready to declare him an honorary member, while Janet Frasier decided he’d earned the right to stay with his “prize” until Jack was responsive and firmly on the way to healing.

Daniel rolled his eyes at all of it, too tired and chilled to bother arguing, all too happy to let everyone have their way as long as it included a warm blanket and a soft cot in the infirmary in sight of Jack’s bed. And a chair to replace it the next day, with a standing invitation to use it whenever he wanted. He was still worried about O’Neill even after the surgery and Janet’s declaration the colonel had only nicked a few things inside and would probably be okay with a lot of rest, antibiotics, and blood. “Probably” wasn’t the same as “definitely,” after all.

And…in a way, it was more personal this time. He’d hung around the infirmary on a few occasions in the past when Jack was spending serious time there. But those hours in the forest—over two, by his later count—when he alone had been responsible for the life of his friend…few experiences could have brought home more just what kind of friendship they had. The one they didn’t talk about, yet that wouldn’t let him breathe right until he was sure Jack would be fine.

Sam sat in the chair next to him. “Come on, don’t sell yourself short—from what you said yesterday, you only found the colonel because he recognized your voice and responded. You don’t do that with someone you don’t have some kind of connection with.”

Daniel gave her a wan smile. “I think after a year of going through that gate together, we’re all pretty connected to each other, don’t you?”

She dimpled again. “Yeah, I do. But I wasn’t the one who followed my instincts and found the colonel, then practically carried him out of there.”

“I didn’t carry him,” he protested. “We kinda…walked out.”

Sam looked more than a little skeptical but didn’t push it. Which was good because Daniel had just caught himself rubbing at his sore shoulder, strained from supporting so much weight for so long. “It doesn’t matter—it still forms a bond. Like after the colonel and I were trapped with the Antarctic gate. For a few days after, it’s kind of hard to leave the other person, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” he hedged. Didn’t she know guys didn’t talk about stuff like this? Even with women. Even with women who were as close as a sister. But he did understand what she was saying. Only thing was, maybe it was stronger this time, but that insistent worry was there whenever something went wrong, whenever one of them was in the infirmary. Wasn’t that why Sam was there, too?

There were more layers to the whole friendship thing than Daniel would ever have guessed. Which was maybe why—though he wouldn’t have admitted it to Sam in so many words—Jack seemed to calm every time he grew restless and Daniel started talking to him. Knowing who Daniel was and that he was there? Trusting him?            

Well…yeah. Duh, as Jack would have said. The thought nearly made Daniel smile…and filled him with a warmth that had been missing since their return to the base.

Sam took pity on him. “Did the general tell you about Lt. Col. Mascarotti?”

Another pleasant subject. Daniel frowned. “Only that he’d been causing some waves about his suspicion of an officer he’d served under was behind some political assassinations.”

“An old C.O., Kurt Chernay, who’d been dishonorably discharged and then disappeared completely.”

Daniel frowned. “Jack mentioned a Chernay—I think he thought Chernay was the one who shot him and Mascarotti.”

“It would make sense. Chernay was a special forces sharpshooter once. If he is what Mascarotti thought and he knew Mascarotti had something on him, I can see him trying to take him out.” She was nodding, thoughtful.

Daniel was just getting a headache. “And Jack got caught in the crossfire.”

“Or possibly knew too much.”

“Which means he’s still a target.”

Sam shifted. “General Hammond’s instituted a pretty massive search for him, but if he’s smart, Chernay will disappear for a while, see if anything happens. Maybe if it doesn’t, the colonel won’t seem like a threat anymore. Or maybe we’ll find him before then.”

The “maybes” hung in the air. Daniel didn’t really believe them and knew he, for one, would be cadging rides and dropping by Jack’s place more than usual for a while. He rubbed at his forehead. “You know…once upon a time, people getting shot only happened in movies I saw.”

It was just venting, not regrets, and Sam knew it. She gave him a sympathetic smile and stood, stretching briefly as she did. None of SG-1 had gotten a lot of sleep those last two nights. “Teal’c and I were about to have lunch—wanna come join us?”

Daniel glanced at Jack again, half-smiled, then looked up at her with a you-know-how-it-is look as she stood. “Maybe for dinner—I just want to stay a little bit longer, until he wakes up.”

Her eyes were too knowing. “Okay. I’ll stop by later again.” Then, giving her own long, assessing look to the figure in the bed, she left.

Leaving him with plenty to think about. Daniel did, rehashing what had happened in the forest, thinking about the man he’d never met who’d nearly taken away his best friend. Disturbed by the hatred that welled in him at the thought. Since his parents, there hadn’t been anyone he’d loved enough to hate any threat against. A lot had changed in the last few years.

Janet passed through the room unexpectedly, starting him out of his thoughts. And giving Daniel a wink as she went into her office.

He felt himself flush. Okay, so he was transparent in his concern. He could think of worse things to be. Like friendless.

Which was really what mattered at the moment. Jack was there, safe, healing. Assassins and might-have-beens suddenly seemed distant, and their chill slowly faded, leaving only the earlier quiet warmth.

And yawning deeply, Daniel set Kurt Chernay aside from his thoughts for the time being, made himself comfortable, and took up again the contemplation of the lack of color of medical center linens.

 

Waking up in an unfamiliar bed. And unfamiliar place. No idea how you got there. In pain and unable to move. It was guaranteed to send any anybody’s panic level through the roof, let alone one who’d woken in some pretty darn unpleasant places before, with bars and captors. Jack O’Neill was no exception, hitting consciousness with a gasp and a shot of fear.

“Hey, easy. You’re okay.”

A hand took his, smooth and warm, no fear in the grasp, and unresisting as he grabbed it in desperation. At least it was something to hold on to.

“Jack? Can you hear me? You’re in the infirmary at the SGC. Everything’s okay—you’re gonna be fine.”

Another jolt, this one of memory: Tony, the dark road, Kurt Chernay, hiding like a wounded animal, fighting off sleep and pain until Daniel…arrived? Jack wasn’t too sure about that last part.

“You remember what happened? You were shot, we think by a sniper.”

Jack’s eyes were too heavy but his lips worked. “Ch’rnay.” Okay, so the vocal chords were a little rusty.

“Yes! Yes, you thought it was Chernay. That’s good, Jack!”

That was Daniel—he’d know those exclamation points anywhere. Even without sight, Jack could fill in the blanks of his vision: the floppy, non-reg hair askew, circles under the eyes, a rare grin. “Dan’l,” he whispered.

“Right here, Jack.” His hand was gently squeezed. Felt oddly good. “Janet says you’ll be fine in a few days, you just need some rest.”

Yes, rest, sleep, lots of it. He was tired already just from waking up. But urgent business first. Jack pushed a little more strength into his voice. “Ch’rnay?”

“We don’t know yet. Hammond’s been looking for him, but the guy’s disappeared. Looks like he got what he wanted and left.”

Jack meant to shake his head in frustration, managing only a little motion to one side. That was naïve, Chernay didn’t just…boy, he was tired.

Daniel’s voice lowered, soothing. “Just go to sleep, let yourself heal—we’ll worry about Chernay later. You’re safe here, now.”

Darned if he could argue with the man when he got like that. Being cared for actually sounded good at that moment. Hammond would know what to do about Chernay, and Jack trusted Daniel for the rest. Being cared _about_ was kinda nice, too…

Jack jerked out of impending sleep. One more thing to say.

“Thanks.”

A beat, long enough that he thought he’d dozed off already and missed it, when he heard the quiet, “You’re welcome.”

Duty done and safe at last in good hands, Jack O’Neill let himself sleep.

The End


End file.
